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#I honestly dont evenknow what to think about this chapter
shikamarubase · 4 years
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Scarred -Chapter Two-
A/N: Happy Nara Week, everyone! I was supposed to write something else for the first day, but please accept this overdue chapter for the ANBU prompt instead. You can find the first chapter here! I hope you enjoy! <3
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Chapter Two:
Shikamaru was, without a shadow of a doubt, late for the meeting.
Rushed for time, he dashed across the hallway leading to the Hokage’s office after changing into his full uniform. His hands fumbled over his ANBU mask as he ran, and he couldn’t stop the string of curses from escaping his mouth when the material got tangled in his windswept hair. Letting his dark hair fall over his shoulders instead of bundling it into the usual ponytail minimized the risk of being recognized during missions; his job was dangerous enough without the additional threat of being hunted down by someone with a grudge. Nevertheless, during times like these, he regretted ever agreeing to wear his hair down for ANBU business.
By the time he unceremoniously stumbled into Kakashi’s office, Ino and Chouji were already standing raptly in attention. He mumbled a quick apology as five pairs of eyes flickered over to him.
Five? Shikamaru arched an eyebrow and surveyed the figures inside.
Ino’s and Chouji’s faces were unsurprisingly hidden beneath their respective ANBU masks, but he didn’t need to read their expressions to confirm there was something amiss by the stiffness of their shoulders. Kakashi, however, was the picture of calm. He casually leaned back into his chair and regarded him thoughtfully with one eye, as if he already knew what was going through Shikamaru’s mind. The remaining two unfamiliar guests stood by the Hokage’s work table. Shikamaru was suddenly glad for the mask he wore over his face, otherwise they would have noticed him gaping at them. He was not one to judge appearances, but they wore attires he would describe as either needlessly fancy or completely ludicrous.
The taller one of the two wore a dark hood with cat-like ears over his head, a sharp contrast to the bright face paint decorating his face. He sneered in contempt, and Shikamaru couldn’t help but imagine he was being hissed at by an angry feline. “Oi oi, you dare call yourself a member of the ANBU Corps when you can’t even be on time? Kakashi, are you sure this guy is suitable?”
Next to him, the man with a mop of red hair cupped his shoulder. “Brother, stop.”
His voice was soft, but was laced with authority and a twinge of danger. Shikamaru couldn’t contain the small shiver that ran up his spine as he eyed the smaller man. When he raised his head, Shikamaru caught a glimpse of a tattoo hidden underneath his fringe. His instincts tingled in anticipation. He wasn’t particularly scary or huge, and yet there was something almost intimidating in the way his emotionless green eyes met his.
“Excuse my brother’s rudeness. He has been a bit wired ever since he allowed our sister to slip away.“
The older man’s jaw tightened in protest. “Oh c’mon, Gaara. You know Temari would’ve snuck out no matter how many guards we assign to watch her, and—”
“And that’s precisely why we’re here,” Gaara finished for him. His eyes lingered on Shikamaru for half a second longer before fixing them back on Kakashi. “Can I assume we have all gathered to begin our discussion?”
Kakashi straightened himself before giving a quick nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Before Shikamaru could wrap his head around that, the Hokage was already gesturing at him and speaking to snarky cat ears. “While Kurohi may not look or act the part, I assure you he is one of our best and brightest. Your sister will be in safe hands, Prince Kankuro.”
Your Majesty? Prince? His head swirled from the prestigious titles thrown inside the room, he didn’t acknowledge when Kakashi addressed him by his given ANBU name nor did he wait for Kankuro’s response.
He was in the presence of royalty. That would explain the extravagant clothing they had on and why Ino and Chouji looked so stiff. They had to deal with the temper of an impatient royal, because he was tardy. Suddenly the entire room reeked of power, and while Shikamaru wasn’t particularly fazed by ranking, he had to acknowledge that half of the people in the room could easily sentence him to death and he would have no way of stopping them. He mentally kicked himself for not figuring it out sooner—Gaara had a cape strapped to his back, for shinobi’s sake! For the better half of his life, he’s had family, friends, and even complete strangers tell him how intelligent he was behind his unmotivated facade. If they could only see him now, they’d understand why he always disagreed.
From Kakashi’s place behind the desk, he spoke to the trio directly as Gaara and Kankuro settled comfortably into the couch. “I’m sure you have figured it out by now, but the two gentlemen before you are none other than King Gaara and Prince Kankuro from Sunagakure. Another unit was assigned to escort them on their way here, but the next step requires the kind of teamwork only the three of you can offer.”
He paused when Gaara suddenly stood up, his cape fluttering behind him. “Lord Hokage, I’d like to tell them the details myself, if you don’t mind.”
If Kakashi was in any way shocked by the offer, he kept it to himself. Instead, he extended a courteous gesture before he sat back down and folded his arms.
Gaara trained his eyes on them. “As you all know, Suna and Konoha have been...at odds for almost a decade, ever since the last great war tore apart any chance of establishing an amicable relationship between our villages. And while we persistently tried to convince him otherwise, our father had blatantly refused to ally with another, so we have been...out of touch for the past few years.”
Shikamaru’s attention shifted when Kankuro scoffed lightly into his hand, a small scowl curling at the corner of his lips. Although his first impression of the temperamental Prince was less than appealing, he could understand where he’s coming from. If they were related, Gaara’s words would elicit an eyeroll out of him as well.
‘Out of touch’ was a severe understatement. The people of the desert kingdom were already known to keep to themselves and constantly avoid direct contact with foreigners, but after the war King Rasa kept the kingdom under lockdown and made sure not a single sandrat could sneak in or out. Anyone who tried was declared a terrorist and executed on the spot. Under the orders of the former Hokage, Shikamaru had snuck in once before for an espionage mission, and nearly lost his neck trying to sneak back out. In the short time he was there, one thing was clear: fear amongst the Sunan civilians was palpable. Sunagakure was a prison cell under the guise of a kingdom; Guards from the royal palace took turns patrolling the city in the interest of enforcing public safety. But rather than give off the image of being protected, civilians behaved skittishly and stepped outside the comforts of their homes at odd hours, almost as if they were afraid to bring attention to themselves. Shikamaru guessed the guards were really stationed to make sure no rebellion sprung up to overthrow the throne. He had to hand it to the former king—he was nothing if not ruthless. Rumors have it he’d trained thousands of soldiers inside the castle grounds in preparation for the next war, and he wasn’t modest about it either. Every other week, Shikamaru would hear news of how “the power-hungry King Rasa” had razed through yet another small neighboring village with no military power to assert his dominance and expand his domain. He was a detestable man who left only destruction and tragedy in his wake. His reputation preceded him, even in death. Despite the grotesque details surrounding his demise, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally out of the throne.
Sensing the tension in the room at the mention of the former King, Gaara cleared his throat. “As I was saying, now that I have ascended the throne, my first agenda is to rebuild my people’s trust in the royal family and to keep them safe from terrorist attacks. Father’s...excursions brought him enemies who’d love nothing more than to eradicate the royal bloodline and destroy our kingdom. The Land of Wind is one of the five founding countries, with rich history stemming from the beginning of civilization. We cannot let it fall so easily. Which is why, as King, I have decided to form a pact with your Hokage and ally ourselves to your nation...in exchange for your protection.”
Shikamaru’s mind raced at his final statement. It was customary for ANBU not to ask questions during mission briefs, but before he could stop himself concern tumbled out of his open mouth. “Pardon my rudeness, but why would you need our protection?”
Next to him, he felt Chouji tense but forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Gaara through the cover of his mask. The King brought a hand to his chin and regarded him curiously. “The Land of Fire boasts the strongest soldiers of all countries. Ninjas from this land are especially talented. Although I wasn’t able to take part in the last Great War, I’ve heard stories of how Konoha soldiers fought valiantly and pushed the war back despite their shortage of manpower.”
Shikamaru nodded briefly at this. It was a story he’d heard over and over as a child. It was his father, Nara Shikaku, who devised the strategies that led to their success in the war. “But I believe you’re mistaken,” he responded, his voice uncharacteristically clear and crisp even to his own ears. “ANBU normally don't fight in wars and most of us aren’t as powerful as you think. We only possess skills suitable for stealth missions, so I don’t see what we can do for you. If you want raw power, it’d be better to seek it from our Jounin or your own soldiers.”
“Kurohi,” Kakashi started to say, but Gaara raised a palm to cut him off.
“Sunagakure has a great number of skilled soldiers, yes. If this were for any other occasion, you’d be right. But as it stands, we need your expertise.”
Shikamaru arched an eyebrow as Gaara started pacing back and forth in front of them.
“Our soldiers are naturally proud and hot-blooded; we pride ourselves for being brave and we never back out from a fight. It is in our nature to rush into battle, even if we have nothing but the clothes on our backs. Some call it foolish, but we call it courage. Unfortunately, our courage makes us more prone to life-threatening situations. While we make up for it with overwhelming strength, our strategic planning is severely lacking. I soon realized, there is no point in winning a war if the soldiers don’t make it back home. When we heard there is a genius with an I.Q. of over 200 in Konoha, working behind the scenes and ensuring successful missions with almost zero fatality rate, we knew you would be the right man for the job.”
Gaara stepped forward and grasped Shikamaru’s shoulder, fingers curling into his skin. “There’s no need to hide behind your mask now, Nara Shikamaru.”
Shikamaru’s blood ran cold. Every bone in his body screamed for him to rip his hand away. This man was dangerous, his instincts gnawed at his head. He was the opposite of Kankuro, who seemed to instill fear through the volume of his voice and biting threats. And yet, the air around the current King was more than enough to keep him frozen in place. It almost felt as if he was facing a veteran soldier, a comforting presence to have around as a comrade but not someone he’d want as an enemy.
Shikamaru lifted his hand to heed to the command, his dark hair swishing over his shoulders as he removed the mask and shook his head slightly. When he lowered his chin to meet Gaara’s eyes, there was no longer any barrier between them.
“What exactly do you need me for?” He mumbled.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Gaara’s lips before he turned his back and went back to his original position. “I need the three of you,” his eyes flitted over to Ino and Chouji, “to guard my elder sister.”
The tension in his chest dispersed. That was not the kind of S-rank mission he had in mind.
As if sensing his disappointment, Kakashi stood up and waved a folder in his hand. “To seal our alliance, Princess Temari is to be wed to our Feudal Lord, Madoka Makoto, and your team has been assigned to be her bodyguards,” he explained.
That earned a small squeak from Ino. She always went on about how handsome the young leader was. If they weren’t in a meeting Shikamaru would’ve rolled his eyes.
“Our father’s assassin is still at large, and we have reason to believe they’ll be coming after us next. We have curbed countless rebellions over the last few years, all of which demanded to bring an end to our sovereignty. While we want to use this opportunity to establish a trusting relationship, they see it as a plot to continue our bloodline and expand our rule.”
“And, is it not?” Shikamaru raised a dubious eyebrow.
Gaara chuckled, the first time his face ever broke out of its stoic mask. “It is an amusing idea,” he admitted, “but I could hardly say I am cunning enough to come up with such an elaborate plan.”
His features clouded over as he added, “Brother and I have mastered swordsmanship, but Temari has no means to protect herself from criminals. They will surely capitalize on the opportunity to attack her and reveal themselves in the process.”
In Shikamaru’s head, his words easily translated to, “I’m using my sister as bait to lure out my father’s killers.”
Finally catching on to their hidden motive, his mind whirled with questions. If the princess was meant to be a catalyst for the alliance, why was she not a part of the meeting? And he had met his fair share of government leaders, and they were definitely not this chatty, especially for someone who’d practically admitted to having a target on his back. Suspicion gnawed at him like a persistent bug. If there was one thing he was sure of: the Sabaku Royal Family weren’t hanging around for entirely diplomatic reasons. And one more thing bothered him...
“What does she look like?” He blurted out and scrambled to cover his outburst. “We can’t protect her if we don’t know her face.”
“Indeed.” As Gaara took the folder from Kakashi and handed it to him, Shikamaru’s thoughts flickered over to the blonde woman he ran into that morning. A foreigner running around the city in a fancy day gown the same day he was assigned as a bodyguard to the Sunan King’s sister? It couldn’t be a coincidence.
He slowly flipped the folder open, his eyes scanning the description of the mission until they landed on a photograph. She looked exactly as he remembered; perched daintily on a wide couch in a lilac princess gown, with four bundles of blonde hair sticking over her head. Her lips pursed together into a pout as her striking teal eyes stared into the camera.
“If you show your face around me again you’ll be sorry!” Her parting words reverberated in his head as his worst suspicions were realized.
He inwardly groaned. This job was going to be more troublesome than he bargained for.
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